


Shelter

by zeest



Category: Samurai Warriors
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-06
Updated: 2012-12-06
Packaged: 2017-11-20 11:38:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/585011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeest/pseuds/zeest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which there is a spaceship, things that are not quite legal, comfort in banter, and a storm brewing on the horizon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shelter

Time was a mote concept when you were in space. Of course, everyone knew the important of sticking to a schedule but Motochika tended to regard rules as suggestions as a matter of principle. He tried though, he really did, but sometimes there were more pressing matters like getting away from hostile forces and coaxing his beloved spacecraft to put on that extra burst of speed that would bring them to safety. Which meant that, after all the fuss was over, after repairs had been made to both machine and human, and the adrenaline high had long worn off, he felt rather as though he had been through a blender, twisted in all directions and drifting through space, aimless and restless. Sometimes it made him wonder, as he did now, if he had not died after all, his body entangled in the charred remains of his ship and falling endlessly through space, and that his consciousness was just too damned stubborn to realise it.  
   
He had made one stop, one that carried a scent that reminded him of safe harbour and gave him a course again. It had been a long time.  
   
His fingers drummed against the smooth surface of his navigation console, a quick _tat-tat-tat_ that ended on a particularly loud _tat_ as he made up his mind and turned towards the communications panel. He tapped in a code, rarely used but one that he could have entered with his eyes closed.  
   
The comm panel pulsed with a soft light, blue to grey and back to blue, and Motochika knew that somewhere where there were mountains and seas, sky and ground and everything in between, a small nondescript device that looked like any plain old communicator but had contents that were illegal in many galaxies and jealously guarded in several others was emitting the same light.  
   
There was a soft click and the light smoothed out to a steady green glow. A voice emitted from the comm, with a slight hollow echo as though it had traveled a great distance to reach him.  
   
“Motochika.” It was not a question. There was only one person in the entire universe who knew how to connect to the communicator.  
   
“It’s been a while,” Motochika replied, lips curving up at the sound of the familiar voice. “Mitsuhide. I trust that it’s not a bad time?”  
   
“You dropped off the grid completely a few months ago,” Mitsuhide said in a faintly disbelieving tone. “You know there’s no way I would say that it’s a bad time now. But no, it’s not. I was just about to go to bed.”  
   
“Excellent.” Already, his restlessness was fading, from an irregular staccato to a slow, steady beat.  
   
There was a soft laugh. “You say that no matter what time it actually is over here.”  
   
Motochika smiled, even though he knew that Mitsuhide wouldn’t be able to see him. “So you don’t agree that it’s excellent?”  
   
There was a pause. “It’s too late for your games.”  
   
Motochika frowned at the sudden tension in Mitsuhide’s voice. “It’s never a game.”  
   
“Or, with you, everything’s a game. Hopping planets, evading patrols, each stop is just a square on the chessboard for you. Just like how it is for the ones sitting comfortably in their positions above everyone else, setting rules and bending them, erasing an entire colony or creating a new one is just as easy as moving pawns around on a board. You don’t even think about the ones left behind, the ordinary people -” Mitsuhide broke off abruptly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean -“  
   
“You’re tired.” Motochika interrupted gently, his voice soothing. _Did something happen_ , he wanted to ask, but that was a dangerous question. Security was a fallacy. There was always someone watching.  
   
“I guess I am,” Mitsuhide admitted with a self-deprecating laugh, the tension leaving his voice. Then, so soft that it was almost drowned out by the background hum, “I miss you.”  
   
The silence stretched out between them, sweet and content. Motochika reached up to his head and tugged away his hair tie, imagining long, dark hair falling loose over his shoulders, soft as silk, black as ebony. And far more precious to him than both those rarities combined.  
   
“You know there’s always room for you here. Just say the word and there is no place in the entire universe that’s out of reach.” _I miss you too. Come with me._  
   
“And you know I have my responsibilities here,” Mitsuhide said and Motochika stayed silent. This was not the first time they had had this conversation and Motochika had never pushed, would never push.  
   
There was a storm brewing, Motochika knew, from the bits of gossip picked up and information carefully extracted during his travels, and the colony Mitsuhide was based in was at the very center of it. The knowledge prickled his skin and gnawed at his mind but humans, more so than the goods he traded, should never be shackled to any one person’s whims. He would not dissuade Mitsuhide from whichever path the man chose for himself even if it should lead to purgatory.  
   
But he would at least be his shelter from the storm.  
   
“I would consider keeping close tabs on shady operatives such as myself to be within the bounds of your responsibilities,” Motochika teased instead, turning the conversation away from the yet nameless dread that lurked at the edges of their lives.  
   
“Of course you would,” Mitsuhide said, “Smuggler.”  
   
“Freetrader.” Motochika corrected instantly. This too, was a familiar routine. There was silence, but Motochika knew that Mitsuhide was probably shaking his head with fond exasperation, hair falling in soft waves over his shoulders. “I merely ease the passage of goods to where they are desired and will be most appreciated. And besides,” he said, leaning in close to the communication panel, “I have something that _you_ will appreciate.”  
   
“Bribery?” But there was interest in Mitsuhide’s voice despite the skepticism.  
   
“Only for you, the most precious of bribes in exchange for your company.” Motochika let his voice drop, low and secretive. “From the heavily guarded greenhouses of Persica, ripened under the sun and picked at the precise moment when the red blush reaches the bottom of the fruit –“  
   
“Motochika, did you -“ He could hear Mitsuhide’s breath catch.  
   
“Your favourite peaches,” he said, letting each word fall slowly from his lips. There was silence, a pregnant pause. Motochika’s fingers tapped a rhythm against the comm panel and he hummed along, a cheerful ditty he had picked up somewhere.  
   
“That,” Mitsuhide said finally, “is definitely not playing fair.”  
   
“I’ve never played by the rules,” Motochika countered easily. “Never had a reason to, especially not when going against them was what netted me my biggest prize.” There was a soft, strangled sound from Mitsuhide’s end and Motochika chuckled, wishing that he could see the other man’s face at that moment.  
   
“And who’s to say,” Mitsuhide said, the words coming out slowly and carefully as though he was testing how they would sound out loud, “that is was not _I_ who had won the prize?”  
   
Motochika laughed and delighted in the slightly mortified laugh that joined his. “Let us debate this when we meet. For now, you should rest,” he said because he could hear the growing exhaustion in Mitsuhide’s voice. “I’ll be there in, hmm, ten.”  
   
“Hours?”  
   
“Hours, minutes, days, who knows? You’ll know when I’m there.”  
   
A sigh echoed down the line but Mitsuhide only said, “Be careful.”  
   
“You too.”  
   
Motochika cut the communication line and relaxed back in his seat. The low hum and gentle vibrations of his ship was as familiar to him as his own heartbeat, steady and soothing, and he settled in contentedly for the rest of the journey, his destination a bright flare in his mind. Like an anchor, warm and calming, with the promise of things to come.   
  
It felt like going home.

**Author's Note:**

> Headcanon that Mitsuhide likes peaches borrowed from [Bellflower](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Bellflower/pseuds/Bellflower) :)


End file.
